


These are the memories I keep

by Achilles_Angst



Category: Lockwood and co
Genre: Childhood Memories, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Locklyle, Lockwood being happy, Memories, No one is surprised, Reminiscing, Sharing, Storms, author is soft, babes being loving, bed sharing, british levels of tea references, lockwood and co server garden party 2020, memories but in a healthy way, they’re just quietly in love ok, written for a server event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achilles_Angst/pseuds/Achilles_Angst
Summary: Lucy and Lockwood reminisce together.
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	These are the memories I keep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PilotInTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilotInTheStars/gifts).



> Written as part of a server event for the lovely PilotInTheStars. The title is from the song “I make sparks” by Novo Amor.

It was around two in the morning when I was startled from my sleep by rain lashing horizontally against the bedroom windows and a howling wind beginning to batter the house. Half asleep and befuddled, for a moment I was convinced that the wail of the wind against the walls was coming from a spirit gate, from another hole punched through the fabric of this world, and began to grope about for a rapier before I realised the true source of the noise. 

Beside me, Lockwood grumbled incoherently and rolled over, likely disturbed by my wriggling about. I whispered a brief apology, but he was already sinking back into sleep. 

I found that I could not settle again so easily. The curtains had been left slightly open by mistake, and light from the ghost lamp outside bled into the room, casting the looming shapes of furniture in an eerie blue wash and highlighting their silhouettes in a way that lent them a kind of hulking menace you only find in the dead of night, when the familiar becomes alien. The rain sheeting against the windows leant the light a strange, distorted quality, almost as though I were still in a dream. 

For a moment, lying in Lockwood’s still unfamiliar bedroom, with the wind drowning out any softer sounds, I felt utterly alone. 

There was only one thing to be done. I gave lockwood a gentle poke, then wrapped my arms around him.

Lockwood mumbled something blearily, likely protesting this rude awakening, but wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck before his breathing began to even out again. The warm susurration of his breath against my skin was a comfort, and as I stroked my fingers idly through his curls I found myself reminded of an old memory, of me curled in Mary’s bed during a storm when I was barely five. We had lain tucked into one another, listening to the rain as Mary had combed her fingers gently through my hair, trying to lull me back to sleep. 

I did not remember a great deal of my early childhood, but that brief fragment of memory was crystal clear, like I had used my Touch to watch a long gone scene play out before my eyes. I found myself abruptly nostalgic for those fleetingly happy moments of my childhood, for Mary and the uncomplicated love I had felt for her. I still loved her, of course, but I had not felt the growing distance between us so keenly before. 

That said, there was plenty I was glad to have left. I thought of the little girl I had been, fearful of my own Talents and their strength, often lonely and distant. I tightened my arms around Lockwood, around his solid warmth. Yes, there were things I was incredibly glad to have found, as well. 

Lockwood stirred in my arms like he was reading my thoughts, and tilted his head back to peer up at me, blinking away sleep.

“What time’sit?” 

I looked guiltily at him. “Around two.” 

Lockwood groaned. “And I was having a delightful dream about teacakes, too. Why’d you wake me?”

Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure. “Maybe I missed you.” 

Lockwood didn’t respond, but I detected a softening in his demeanour. Wrapping his arms more tightly around me, he rolled us slightly until I was lying on my side facing him rather than the flickering light playing across the ceiling. 

“Quite a storm out there.” 

I hummed in agreement. “It reminded me of being back up north, as a matter of fact. Me and Mary used to listen to the rain together.” 

Lockwood smiled. I could just see its outline through the hazy darkness.

“Mum used to love storms. She always used to go outside in them.” His smile widened to his softest grin. “Me and Jessica used to run outside to play with her in them. The moment we got back inside, dad would bundle us both straight into a hot bath. He thought the best way to experience bad weather was with a book in hand and the curtains drawn.” 

I laughed. “I think I’m with him on that one.” 

Lockwood hummed in agreement. “He’d have loved you. He used to say I needed someone with a grain of common sense to balance me out.”

I grinned. “Were you a terribly wild child?” 

Lockwood pouted at me. “Not so much wild as impulsive, I suppose. I fell out of the apple tree a fair few times. I think they sent me off to fencing to give me something to focus on.” 

“How young were you when you started?” 

Lockwood squinted thoughtfully. “Five, I think. It must have been just before my sixth birthday. DEPRAC had a bunch of programs for little kids, to start them off young in case they became agents.” 

I considered this. “That’s...slightly grim.” 

Lockwood shrugged lightly. “Maybe. I enjoyed it all the same. And it gave me something to do, after…” He trailed off, looking away. “Anyway, that’s when I started. It probably made me more of a terror, if anything. I was always chasing Jessica about with my training rapier.”

“She must have loved that, then.” 

Lockwood laughed. “Oh yeah. She used to say to go away and bother someone who had a rapier. She set up the first esmeralda prototype for me, in the end. Hung up a bundle of dad’s old coats in the basement and told me to go wild.” He snorted. “It was a rubbish training dummy, really, but it kept me entertained.” 

I traced a lazy pattern up his back with one finger. Lockwood was rarely so candid about his childhood, especially about Jessica. I didn’t want to ruin the mood and stop him, but I was also desperately curious about his sister.

“Jessica wasn’t a fan of fencing herself, then?” 

Lockwood shook his head. “Not at all. She was totally unimpressed by anything to do with the supernatural. Dad used to call her his little old woman, she was so sceptical of it.” 

I hummed. “One of my older sisters, Rosie, always said the whole thing was probably a hoax. She was psychically blind as a bat, of course. I always assumed she was just jealous she couldn’t see ghosts. I suppose, considering Marissa, that she was actually right in a way.” 

Lockwood laughed. “All the naysayers were closer than we were, if you put it like that.” He snickered. “Hey, remember old man Skinner and his matchstick ship?” 

I couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, and George said…” Lockwood, cackling, joined in; “you’ve gained an exciting new three-D jigsaw puzzle!” 

I’m not sure if it was the absurd hour, the high emotion of what we’d been discussing, or just the memory of reverend Skinner’s pop-eyed rage, but we both collapsed into each other in fits of laughter. Lockwood, wheezing, choked out “You’ll pay for this, you horrible gang of terrors!” In a passable impression of the reverend’s high, wavering bellow just as I had begun to get myself back under control, and we both collapsed again.

Eventually, gasping for breath, I resurfaced. “You know you probably woke George, shouting like that.” 

Lockwood shrugged. “He’ll get over it. After all, it can’t be worse than the time you woke him when I-“ I smacked him in the arm. 

“You agreed we’d never mention that again!” 

Lockwood sighed. “Ok, ok, but you have to admit in hindsight it was pretty funny.” 

I scowled. “It most definitely wasn’t….unlike what happened at Mrs Barretts.” 

Lockwood gave me a look of total affront. 

“That, Lucy, was a heartbreaking event for all involved.”

“Mmm. Probably especially for the poor woman’s family.” 

Lockwood wrinkled his nose. “Please. The grave was _fine_. It added character!” 

I peered back at the window, which was still being heavily rain-lashed. “D’you reckon you’ll go back to sleep?” 

Lockwood stretched, and scrunched his nose in thought. “Not for a while, no. I’ve been thoroughly awoken.” 

I winced guiltily. “Sorry, sorry.” 

Lockwood laughed, leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. I felt the shape of its warmth even after he’d moved away again. “It’s quite alright. I always enjoy your company, after all.” 

I couldn’t help but smile sappily. In that moment, the rain could have brought the roof down and I don’t think I’d have minded. 

“Do you fancy getting a cuppa, then? I could definitely go for some tea right now.” 

Lockwood considered this. 

“That, Lucy, is an excellent suggestion.”

I grinned. “Aren’t they always?”

Lockwood grinned back. “Ye-es…apart from that time you woke George when we-“

If we hadn’t already awoken poor George, the shriek that Lockwood let out when I pitched him off the bed probably did. 

Sprawled on the ground like a drunken daddy long legs, he blinked up at me.

“You’ll pay for that one, Lucy Carlyle.” 

I smirked down at him. 

“Oh yeah? How?”

Quick as a flash, Lockwood reached up and pulled. I landed on top of him with a yelp.

We lay there for a minute, giggling like a pair of naughty children. 

Eventually, I poked a finger into his dimple. 

“I hope you know how ridiculous you are.” 

“Me?! You started this!” 

“Well _I_ wouldn’t have pushed you if _you_ hadn’t brought up the time we-“

I cut myself off, reddening. 

Lockwood cackled beneath me. I gave him the most serious scowl I could muster, and heaved myself to my feet. 

“Hush, you. I’m off to get some tea, then.” 

As I got to the door, Lockwood scrambled up behind me. 

“Wait!” 

I spun around. “Wait for what, Lockwood? I’m only going downstairs.” 

Lockwood beamed down at me. “I want to give you something first.”

I played along, affecting curiosity. “Oh? What is it?” 

“This.” Lockwood said, plainly well pleased with himself, and kissed me.

Normally I would have protested such a ridiculous line but, well. It was a very nice kiss. 

I smiled up at him. “You’re the most terrible sap, you know.” 

Lockwood nodded solemnly. “Oh yes. I’m afraid it’s incurable.”

I laced our fingers together. “Luckily for you, I quite enjoy your sap.” 

Lockwood pressed his lips to my forehead. It seemed to be becoming a favorite spot. 

“That is lucky.” 

I looked up at him, safe and well and happy in the room I was beginning to call ours. 

“We are rather lucky, aren’t we?” 

Lockwood gently detangled our fingers, only to wrap his arms around me. 

“I certainly think so.” 


End file.
